


Euphoria and Other Lies

by ObscureSoul



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is whiny, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no regrets, M/M, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson is a smug little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureSoul/pseuds/ObscureSoul
Summary: Alexander sometimes makes bad decisions- it entirely depends on your definition of bad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So- I hope you like this, it made me realise how much of a piece of trash I am.

He had not planned his evening to end like this. He didn’t even plan to begin it the way it did, but Alexander had just reached the furthest level of ‘fuck my life’ so he decided:  _I’m going to get shitfaced beyond all sane minds and have some fun for once in my life._ Alexander’s idea of ‘fun’ however was not… this. It had been around 3 hours of him mindlessly strolling through the streets that weren’t too close to his home, but neither too far.

Alexander’s definition of ‘mindless’ was just not thinking about politics. His mind was still reeling through different ideas of how to disregard some of his opponents through the press- evidently his mind was constantly related to politics. He tended to get lost in his thoughts, hence the ridiculous amount of time he had been sauntering through the city.

His mind kept reminding itself that the new secretary of state was arriving for a cabinet meeting tomorrow…  _Timothy? Was it? No- Thomas! What was his last name?_  Despite this, Alexander couldn’t help but feel distance to his upcoming colleague. He was a decorated war veteran, Jefferson had not fought in any wars- he was naturally wealthy and was endowed with power as soon as he returned from France. Whereas Alexander had to- in his own mind, fight for his current position with everything he had ever since  _that day_  when he was twelve years of age.

Scratch that. He needed a drink, it was something that helped him ease into a state of calmness when he was on the boat to New York; however, it was also something which created a state of adrenaline moments before heading off to battle. Either way- he needed a goddamn drink.

The bar was… dusty, at best. It was a collection of different shades of brown in odd blocks of either tables, bottles, chairs, or the bar itself, the door was another shade of brown- the darkest off all the other shades, and the floor was- you guessed it, another shade of brown. The floor somehow managed to be another whole level of brown- beiges blending into sandy tones into a chocolate vibrancy… it was a weird dirt marble piece that seemed to amaze Hamilton. Amaze was not the correct term… but it was the most accurate as he was the opposite of put-off by the rather dusty flooring. The man who owned the bar seemed to also be… in his own right: dusty.

Contrastingly, the alcohol itself was more grainy than dusty- which made Alexander not know how to feel about his recent choices leading up to this moment sitting in a dull bronze room with a russet cup of burnt-amber-looking liquid which was apparently whisky. This only confirmed one thing: Alexander was an ale kind of man. Unless this wasn’t what the spirit was supposed to taste like- however the proceedings of this experience were sure to scar him against the hard alcohol for all future occasions.

He kept thinking. His mind never stopping. Alexander can sometimes prevent his mouth from running yet if he does that, his thoughts only become more chaotic… _Jefferson!_ That was the new secretary of state’s last name. Out of congratulation to himself of managing to remember an irrelevant yet important piece of information Alexander took another gulp of the ‘whiskey’.

He never expected that the man he would meet with the person who he had been fiddling within his mind a little while back tonight, he expected they would arrive and retreat imminently to rest the travelling off before a new day of work. That would be the sensible thing to do, which Alexander felt like he should also abide by.

“Whiskey. Neat.” The voice which had entered the brown bar from behind Alexander seemed much louder than it could have naturally been. Alex glanced momentarily and noted something that would probably be held over him by a numinous power until the day he died.

The only plausible reasons for this bar being so brown is that: A) Brown is an easy colour to manufacture. B) Brown would be used against a certain member of the Hamilton family to emphasise a stranger’s purple coat. Holy shit. That garment was ridiculously decadent, especially for a place like this. Hamilton almost stared at him with a glance that was nothing short of a warning about the borderline insane amount of dust which had accumulated in this one area.

The other man, sadly, did not acknowledge the obvious and rather kind warning; he strolled in towards the bar, collected his drink and swiftly departed to the back of the bar and perched himself on a chair (not before using a handkerchief to swipe it a few times). He retrieved a newspaper from within his coat, flipped it open, and read the contents of the paper.

_What an asshole._

A few minutes passed before the stranger re-approached the bar, ordering the same drink again, passing over the money, retrieving the beverage and returning to his chair. This time however he did not dust it- which was, depressingly, the most interesting thing which happened through that event.

After finishing up the same singular drink he had started with, Alexander stood up, bid a thank you and farewell to the server and exited the bar.

The first fuck-up of the night was trying to push the door which he had noted as he entered was a ‘pull’ door. The man dressed in green sighed, looking at the floor and then proceeded to pull the door, awkwardly bidding goodbye again and leaving with his gauche mannerisms in-tact.

The second fuck-up was glancing through the window of the place he was just in; making direct eye-contact with the stranger whom he so keenly observed moments prior to this prolonged cringe. If Alexander hadn’t felt it before… he was surely feeling the ‘fuck my life’ mindset now. The only way to deal with this ungraceful moment was to smile it off. However, Alexander’s smile looked panicked and scared- not reassuring and apologetic. Now it just looked like he was overthinking his smile and he hadn’t realised he was still staring at the man. The purple alien, so to speak, had the expression of someone who was stuck within a small room of old women who were trying to convince him they knew him when he was younger and that his grown so much in addition to being told that he was a hideous child- confused, feigned politeness, irritated, and trapped.

Alex looked at the floor again and walked away. His steps were uncoordinated and it looked as if he was limping, marching, and skipping at the same time- he just looked like he belonged in a mental institute for the socially inept.

Anyway. Alexander did not know these streets as well as he thought he did- so he stumbled around until he found a place which was empty enough so it didn’t look strange as he practiced how to walk like a regular human being again. It took a couple of deep breaths, some eyes-closed moments and a cheeky bit of maximum effort. That was of course a lie- he also had to sit on a bench for a couple of minutes to convince himself that moments like these were common to everybody and it’s not just him being weird and unable to convey his feelings without bursting into a rage or mumbling and staring. It worked- which hadn’t really happened before.

Even more annoyingly so- his humanity and desperation to increase his elegance demanded him to go and apologise the man he assaulted with his awkwardness. So… he turned back around and retraced his steps almost all the way back to the bar. Before making his way back to the bar completely he saw his (not to sound sinister) target a couple of streets away. He approached.

“I wasn’t following you.” Hamilton spoke with an abruptness that was typically alarming to strangers. It had shocked Aaron Burr upon their first meeting and seemed to be a habit Alexander seemed to have under control.

“I- I never said you was.” The purple man spoke back. He was taller, most people were. He looked… appropriately handsome. It wasn’t jaw-dropping beauty or mysteriously attractive, this man would be categorised, within Alexander’s eyes, as ‘glowingly endearing’. Alexander was one who could appreciate the looks of another man. He is _definitely not_ in denial when he says that he isn’t romantically or sexually attracted to the same sex. He just appreciates them aesthetically.

“I… uh.”

The man had the same look of perplexed in his eyes as he stared at Alexander.

“You see, I felt the need to apologise.”

“There is no need.”

“But I- “

“There is no need, Sir.” The stranger interrupted. He smiled, which was not either comforting to Alexander’s cause or 100% feigned. It was a pleasant smile; one which Alexander could find himself growing accustomed to.

“However, if you further feel the need to do so- may I suggest we venture someone that has a fire and some drinks as it was rather filthy in that place and there was a constant draft.” The taller of the two suggested, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. The action, which was often associated with a question, made the statement sound like an order a parent would suggest to their infant.

“That is a good idea, sir.” Alexander stated, trying to sound casual and comfortable as he forced out a convincing chuckle after imposing a hesitant ‘sir’. He wasn’t strange due to any resentment or bitterness; the man hadn’t done anything incriminating yet. _Yet._ Alexander just felt cautious as his gut was claiming that this man was someone who would.

“You probably know this place better than I do.” The stranger said, placing his hands in his, in this light, magenta coat pockets.

“I know it with decency.” Alexander lied. He was used to being cooped up in his study and only wandering locally around the city. He hadn’t ventured this far with enough regularity and confidence to know it, as he should.

In a response, the other man simply raised his brows. It was both an accusatory and challenging expression that only people who wanted to spar with Hamilton had shown- most of whom were either Washington trying to question the younger man on whether he actually had a decent amount of sleep or Burr commenting on Hamilton’s inhuman amount of writings.

“Preferably somewhere with better whiskey than the other place.” The taller male suggested, still glaring at Hamilton with an irritating sense of superiority. The comment both made Alexander relieved about Whiskey as it wasn’t meant to be _that_ horrific, proud that he managed to assume that Whiskey was meant to be better than that, and maddened by this man’s innate snobbery.

“Yes.” Alexander said with faltering confidence which made him sound partially agreeing and partially disgusted- which was not what he was aiming for. 

“You sound distant, sir.” The acquaintance commented.

He was trying to think of places around here that had good Whiskey- however he wouldn’t know because it was a beverage he was unfamiliar with. He couldn’t bring him to a place that had bad whiskey because then he would look like an uncultured idiot.

Truthfully, Alexander was not in his home area- as taking the job of secretary of treasury he had to move closer to the city centre. That was his excuse.

“In all honesty, I’ve only been living in this area for a week, I know downtown much better.”

“I see.” He looked up at the sky, where greys had been collecting to form a late dusk canvas- it was going to get dark very soon. “So, we are now at a predicament.

“I guess you could say that.” Alexander couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward at this formal type of conversation outside of working circumstances. This man was everything but familiar in Hamilton’s eyes. This man looked as if he was foreign to this land- he looked American in his appearance yet his expression showed that he was not accustomed with this ‘new world’- as if he hadn’t grown used to the freedom of this territory, as if he found the entire situation he was in was unbelievably optimistic. The man kept looking around with a type of amazement that could only be likened to someone returning home to find it better than they had remembered.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Hamilton inquired out of sheer curiosity.

“The north is rather compact, is it not.”

“I think that is just New York, cities in general seem to always be dense.” Alexander responded.

“That is true, Paris seemed to be very fond of alleyways instead of pathways.” The stranger responded.

“Ah, so you’ve been to France.”

With that statement the other man looked at Hamilton dead in the eyes with an expression that read: how-did-you-not-know-that? This look quickly changed into one of alarm. If Hamilton had read the situation clearly, it is possible that this man had assumed Alexander knew who he was.

“Yes.” The other said with a growing sense of hesitation. There was a pause before the same man spoke up- “I’m not meaning to sound self-important when I ask this, but do you not know who I am?”

“Not a clue, sir, are you alright?” Hamilton responded again with curiosity yet this time he did have an occasional emphasis on disturbing levels of worry. “Do you know of me?” Alexander asked when he was met with a lack of an answer.

“You have not introduced yourself.”

“Perhaps I should.”

“Are you just genuinely this polite to everyone?” The stranger smirked, changing the subject- his eyes calculating something

Hamilton scoffed. No, not in anyway. Never in his life has Alexander ever been referred to as polite. Short-tempered- yes, but in anyway shape or form of measured, good-mannered or civil – no.

“Some people would argue the opposite.” He extended his arm out towards the other man. “My name is Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton.”

That moment the other man seemed to freeze. “Ah.” The purple coated male glanced at the floor. “I do know of you.”

“Judging from your change in tone I’m guessing these are bad things you have perceived.”

“No, no. A friend of mine, Lafayette, spoke kindly of you. I just did not suspect I’d meet you before I met with Washington.”

Hamilton had so many questions: _Why do you need to speak to George Washington? Why did you call him ‘Washington’ and not- The President/Mr President? How do you know Lafayette? What has Lafayette said about me? Who are you?_

“My name is Thomas Jefferson.” He claimed when Alexander was halfway through his train of thought, this statement did allow Alexander to answer some of his questions by himself. He wouldn’t have guessed it himself, however the man’s identity did make sense. He was known to be a wealthy man, hence the purple coat. He was known to own slaves, which explained the superiority complex rather well. His liking to whiskey was almost a confirmation of his southern heritage. His experience within France consolidated his previous position of being Ambassador to France. Of course, this was Thomas Jefferson.

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” Alexander said after a rather lengthy pause.

“Please, the pleasantry is all mine.” Thomas responded.

They both paused momentarily, glancing around at the street. From noise alone, it was evident that there was a lively bar close by and both of the men silently agreed to go there for means of conversation. Neither of the men spoke to each other during their journey, which was a non-starter for their original motive to find a purpose to a conversation yet upon arrival the two men both noticed the convenient sign outside of the door: The best Whiskey in New York! Both men portrayed different responses to this. Jefferson found the sign humorous- scoffing out a laugh as he found the statement astounding. Hamilton’s observational noted that the ‘New York’ had the American flag underneath it, and underneath that was a small (and rather bad) drawing of a soldier in a blue coat, which made Alexander chuckle for a wholly different reason. It was pride.

“I take it that this is where we will spend the rest of this riveting conversation, Hamilton.” This allowed Alexander to mentally note two things, one of which being that Jefferson is naturally sarcastic and witty- a sign of intelligence, the other is that Thomas likes to refer to people by their second name.

“I have to agree with you there, _Jefferson_.” Alexander spoke much more deadpanned than he had preferred.

The bar was not a collection of browns unlike the last one. From the windows, there was a glow of amber and gold hues that just oozed with warmth and the smell of the bar was strong with alcohol yet also an underlining of vanilla or linen- unless that was Thomas who Alexander was smelling.

The colours that patterned the outside of the bar wasn’t vibrant and bright- however at least it wasn’t brown. Burgundy, navy and grey- like endarkened night-influenced shades of the American flag. It was suiting for him and Jefferson- two cabinet members entering a rather patriotic looking venue.

Upon entering, some glances were made towards Alexander as he was pulled away into a group of men. Due to his height and loud persona it’s a natural instinct to now to assume these people were going to try and beat him up. However, they seemed to be people who recognised him from the war effort. They treated him kindly yet due to their drunken manner they were very unknowing of their strength and pushed him, seeming very over familiar to the small man.

He also couldn’t see Jefferson anymore due to Hamilton being surrounded by the, what seemed to be, group of revolutionists. They gave him many drinks by saying in slurred voices ‘You are the man, Alex’. Hamilton’s overwhelming sense of pride and need for acceptance allowed him to beam from happiness and following almost an hour of receiving drinks from the men and laughing with them, he stumbled out of the circle. He saw the person he arrived with at the bar, looking amused and observing the group of men. Alexander approached and perched on a stool next to him, receiving an ale which was apparently ‘on the house’- however Alexander still paid them.

“They seem to like you.” Thomas said, either indicating towards the barman or the group of men who were now singing a song that was indecipherable due to their drunken garbling and lack of synchronised harmony.

“I think this place was very supporting of the revolution and I was in the revolution- so they like me and I like them.” Alexander thought he said this, however he probably sounded closer to the group of men who seemed to be spouting gibberish.

“Wow, Hamilton, you really can’t hold your liquor. How much did they give you?” He asked, amused by Alexander’s drunken state as his inability to talk with clarity and coherency seemed to be comedic to the soon-to-be Secretary of State.

“I can hold my liquor but my liquor can’t hold me.”

“What on earth are you going on about now, Hamilton?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow and still smiling. How could you get him to stop smiling? It was so much more annoying than it was originally- perhaps it was due to Alexander’s condition, but he could freely express his annoyance towards Jefferson’s attitude like this.

Because of the rather moronic mindset Hamilton was in, the only clear way to express his annoyance was the simply poke Thomas Jefferson in the face. Which seemed to be a better plan in his imagination than it was in reality.

Instead of lightly poking the man in the cheek- which was his aim, he prodded him in the side of the nose. Not only that but Hamilton had timed the incident so that the moment where his finger made contact with Jefferson’s nose the man was taking a sip of his drink. Perfect, absolutely perfect. If anyone had ever been unexpectedly poked in the side of the nose at force, they would know that the head would automatically move with the direction of the poke.

Long story short, Jefferson’s drink went everywhere.

Thomas didn’t exactly know how to respond to this event, as if he had planned everything yet this hadn’t been precautioned. He just looked disturbed in general for around a minute before taking another drink, standing up, then calmly evacuating the situation.

Hamilton should’ve taken this as a sign to leave the man alone and apologise at work tomorrow, but when has Hamilton every left something to manifest alone? So, he followed the taller man sluggishly, calling out ‘wait’ in an amused tone, laughing lightly to himself as Jefferson continued to walk away, leaving the pub and entering an ally on the opposite side of the road. Alexander, of course, followed him, not knowing when it is appropriate to leave something alone. The alleyway was of a regular size, yet it curved around the building next to it and there was minimal lighting apart from the one beam of moonlight that was barely bright enough to create a shadow. The hue of the light was a dim grey, it wasn’t a white glow which is what most moonlight looked like. The walls of the alleyway were the cobblestone structures of the two buildings and the floor was uneven dry mud- small dips as to where rain had eroded to create space for puddles.

When Jefferson turned to look at Alexander, it wasn’t anger- which the shorter man was expecting. He just looked frustratingly astonished, his eyes were widened, his brows were furrowed and his mouth was parted slightly in shock.

“Hamilton… What was that?” He asked in measured tone.

“What was what?” Hamilton responded like a stupid giggling schoolboy when they try and talk back to a teacher.

“Don’t play dumb.” This was the first-time Hamilton had seen Jefferson portray an overt dominance. It was almost scary yet it was also somehow enticing.

“Oh.” He laughed. “That? I- erm… Sorry?” He stumbled. “It won’t happen again.”

Jefferson’s look of confusion developed into a state of pure bewilderment, before covering his face and groaning in what seemed like growing infuriation. “It’s like you’re a fucking child.”

“I’m not a child. It’s very rude to call an adult man a child. I don’t care that you’re older than me by how many years? 12! Jesus you’re old. Yet that doesn’t give you the right to call me a child, which I am most definitely am not.” Alexander streamed off, he could’ve ended his sentence at ‘I’m not a child’ yet his brain has never been known to co-operate with his mouth to obtain the image of being reserved.

Jefferson dropped his hands by his side and stepped forward into a beam of moonlight. Alexander could now see the damaged he had caused. Thomas’ hair was wet, his shirt had splatters of liquid seeping through it and some liquid had left a mark on his crotch. Despite the humorous image, Alexander could not bring himself to laugh.

“Prove it.”

Alexander froze, not knowing what to do. Stupidly, he found himself thinking: what do adults do? – as if he himself was not an adult. Adults talk about politics; however, he didn’t think that would be an appropriate conversation topic judging by the atmosphere.

Adults drink alcohol- yet that hadn’t turned out so well. Adults have relationships, but he didn’t know Thomas that well. Think, Hamilton think! Jefferson was starting to turn away when Alex acted out of reflex (acting out whatever was one his mind). People in relationships show affection and a sign of affection was kissing.

In hindsight, Alexander should’ve really thought through his life choices before pulling his future colleague into a kiss. The kiss was weird for a good ten seconds. There was no moving, both parties involved in this _event_ were not fully aware of what was going on, and the difference in height meant Alexander was leaning up and Thomas had been pulled down awkwardly. Ten seconds in was also the moment when Alex realised that what Jefferson really wanted was probably just a sincere apology. Yet at eleven seconds Thomas began to move. Firstly, his lips started to relax, pressing back ever so slightly, and all that Alex could do at that moment was melt because it was getting tiring for him to lean up. However, as he did so, Hamilton’s mouth also relaxed, his lips softening and parting. Naturally, his eyes fluttered to a close- the last thing he saw in that moment was a glint in Jefferson’s narrowed eyes. The glint was both dangerously ominous and victorious, which seemed to make Alexander more pliant to the man who was now kissing him. They were kissing.

Somewhere within the gently press of lips, Alexander had let go of Jefferson’s wrist and completely submitted all control of this moment to the other man- who had greedily accepted the supremacy in this instance. Thomas’s hands had made refuge on Hamilton’s waist and hips- softly tugging him closer. The moment was comfortable- not particularly heated. The kiss was synonymous to a breath of fresh air: It was graceful, refreshing, relieving, and soft.

After a mutual pulling away, Alexander seemed unsteady on his own feet, staring at the floor. Jefferson seemed to have abandoned his previous shock and perplexed appearance and replaced it with pure smugness.

“Oh, Alexander, I did not know you felt this way.”

“Shut it, Jefferson.”

That was the first time yet that Thomas had referred to Alex by his first name- it almost had a drug-like effect.

“You’re blushing.”

“Shut it, Jefferson.”

“Is that all you can say?” He chuckled, which was followed by a sigh. He had pulled away from the kiss yet he had not stepped back or removed his hands from Alexanders body. Hamilton also had not protested against this.

“I’m sorr- “

Before Alexander could finish his apology, he had been pulled flush against Thomas’ chest, as he looked up to inquire what the hell the taller man was doing his lips were captured in a kiss that was so much more passionate than the previous. If the other kiss could be described as graceful, this contact was purely sinful; which both men seemed to absolutely love.

Alexander started off within this kiss at a disadvantage- his stage of shock meant that at the second the kiss began his mouth was opened- which explained the tongue that was currently in his mouth. Jefferson’s hands had snaked their way around Alexander, so that the only way of ‘fighting’ back was for Hamilton to intertwine his fingers into Thomas’ hair.

Instead of his confidence being a turn off for Thomas, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Jefferson’s fists balled up in the green fabric of Hamilton’s jacket, as he stepped forward turned to the side, pulling Alexander with him and pressing him against the brick wall. Alexander started to tug on the hairs in his hand to try and regain whatever status he had between the two of them without completely submitting.

That was a pointless move as Jefferson was in the position of complete control: it was his movements that had completely influence over the pace and deepness of the kiss, his knee that was sliding between Alexander’s legs, it was his tongue in Alexander’s mouth, it was his body pinning Hamilton to the wall, it was Thomas who was in control. In all honestly, Hamilton quite liked it like this.  

His liking towards this situation was the only plausible explanation for the sound he made.

It was a high-pitched whine- which would’ve made anyone think that Alexander was on the feminine side of gender. Hamilton’s embarrassment by the noise only spurred Jefferson on further. He pushed his body flat against Alexanders, his hands sliding down to the other man’s thighs, lightly brushing over the curve of Hamilton’s ass, somehow managing to pull the shorter male closer.

This man had defied all expectations Alexander had enlisted him with before they even met. This was far from measured- he could be impulsive in his own right, far from reserved.

“Jeffer- “ Alexander managed to call out, his voice weak and breaking. In response to this, Jefferson seemed to groan- as if he didn’t like to be referred to by his last name in intimate moments- who would have guessed it?

“Thomas.” Hamilton somehow managed to mutter- which was meant with a far more positive response. The taller man’s hands slid up, gripping the younger man’s ass enthusiastically. Thomas’s mouth had moved onto Alexander’s neck, sucking and kissing the exposed flesh leaving Alexander to cling to the taller man and gasp at the sensations. He could hear Thomas both groaning and chuckling as he assaulted Hamilton’s neck with his lips and teeth, licking up one stipe from the place where his neck meets his shoulder, to the curve of his ear- before nibbling on the outer shell.

The older man’s fingers started opening Hamilton’s coat, once that had been achieved his hand slid under the layer of fabric- hooking his hand around his waist again. With his other hand, he hitched Alexander’s leg up, allowing space for Jefferson to move closer and completely have Hamilton at his mercy.

“Not here.” Hamilton managed to utter breathlessly, looking up at the sky to expose his neck which had now been painted with red marks.

Jefferson spoke without moving away, nibbling at Alexander’s lips between words. “Where are you staying?”

“Around 15 blocks away.” He blurted out thoughtlessly.

“Close enough.”

Jefferson stepped back and looked at what he had done to the younger man. He looked completely wrecked- flushed, breathless, and hungry for more. Hamilton held his coat together without doing up any of the buttons as he started to walk out of the alleyway- knowing Jefferson was on his tail.

Hamilton’s pace of walking was rather rushed as he managed to make it back to his lodgings in six minutes. He took of his coat, running a hand through his hair as Jefferson entered and shut the door behind him.

The first thing Hamilton thought about in that second was _how far where the two men going to go? Is this a wise decision?_ It was evident that both men wanted this and that they knew what they were doing- yet it was unclear on whether or not they should.

“We should– “Jefferson started.

“Go upstairs.” Alexander finished.

Jefferson smirked again at Alexander’s confidence, watching as the man nodded and walked upstairs in a rushed manner. Alexander did not look calm and he knew Jefferson was watching him as he scrambled up the stairs to the bedroom, still drunk. 

Once he had made his way up the stairs, he looked down, to see Jefferson glancing at him as he walked towards the first step- the man had removed his coat. He couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away, watching Thomas’s legs, arms, all his movements. Alexander was unaware of how he was swaying side to side when his partner for the night reached the landing- placing a hand on his shoulder and one on the side of his face, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“Yup.” Thomas muttered to himself before sighing- Alex didn’t understand what it meant, what mental question Thomas was answering.

Alexander also did not have time to question it, as he had been pushed back against yet another wall, a hand brushing up his inner thigh as his hands braced on the other gentleman’s chest. However, instead of a wall, he was being pushed against a doorframe, Alexander could almost reach the doorknob in his position if he reached far enough. _But what would be the fun in that?_

They weren’t kissing- just tracing the lines of each other’s body. Alexander’s hands were marginally gentler than the others- his fingers walking across the gap between Jefferson’s shoulder blades. His breath hitched in his throat when one of Jefferson’s hands slipped under his shirt- cold fingers pressing against the small of his back.

Jefferson’s hands were pressing, rubbing, controlling, rough. As if he knew Alexander wasn’t going to break under his touch yet he wanted to test if he could see how much pressure needed to be applied for forge a crack. It wasn’t painful by any means, it was heated and Alexander could barely control his breathing. His breath kept hitching under his gasps and pants as Jefferson’s knee was reunited in between Hamilton’s legs. However, that was not how it stayed. After enough room had been created Jefferson quickly moved to place both hands behind Hamilton’s thighs, hoisting the other man up onto his hips. After manoeuvring the legs to wrap around his waist Jefferson managed to close the last gap between them. Their hips were now pressed together.

With their hips pushed together, Alexander’s angled his head downwards to brush his lips against the other mans. He had not realised how much he had been trembling until Jefferson pressed a kiss back. If the first had been cool, the second must have been warm because this one turned into an animalistic fire. Jefferson’s hands had begun to kneed the meat of Alexander’s ass, massaging in a circular motion. It was powerful, and felt slightly possessive.

The kiss was messy, a mix of tongue and groaning which was further spurred on when Jefferson started to bite at Alexander’s lips as a measure of obtaining even more power.

For once Alexander did not mind shutting up and submitting.

One of Jefferson’s hands reached upwards, a fist balling in Alexanders long hair and yanking it downwards, pulling Alexander’s head back, forcing their lips apart and exposing all of Alexander’s neck. The younger man practically whimpered at the unrefined treatment. As Jefferson led an onslaught of kisses to Hamilton’s collar all the way to his nape, Alex let out small noises of shock and pleasure, after a couple of moment’s the man tried to speak.

“This- “ He broke off as Thomas lightly nibbled on his ear, shuddering and exhaling deeply. “This is the bedroom.” His hand lightly hitting the door that was next to them and Jefferson grinded his hips into Hamilton’s.

That was the instance that Hamilton realised how aroused Thomas really was. The feeling of something so hard and unexpected rubbing against the cleft of his ass made Alex fling his arms around the one carrying him, clinging as his own member rubbed against the stomach of the other man. There were to many of layers of fabric between the men for any real gratification- yet that was what made the act so tantalizing. Then Jefferson moved like _that_ again, his hand gripping Alexander’s hip tighter underneath his shirt, the only place below the shoulders where there was skin on skin. Alexander whined again.

That seemed to be the determining factor of Jefferson’s next move. The way he pressed himself against Alexander as he leaned to open the door, then stepping backwards with Hamilton still lifted and wrapped around Thomas’s waist. He walked into the room and kicked the door shut, biting down on the flesh on Alexander’s shoulder.

The shorter man hissed at the sting of teeth biting into him and, out of impulse, tried to push Jefferson away; which resulted in the domineering man dropping the other on the bed.

Alexander was splayed out and now each of the men could fully look at each other with both appreciation and clarity- which was needed. The glint that was in Jefferson’s eye had now completely consumed his whole iris, darkening the colour. Hamilton had no idea what he looked like to Thomas- however judging by the hungry smirk forming over his mouth Alexander assumed he looked helpless.

 Thomas knelt on the edge of the bed (not waiting for any conformation or break to regain any sanity) hooking his fingers over the waistband of Hamilton’s trousers and jerking them down- pulling off any undergarments with it and throwing them across the room. After he did this, Jefferson froze, looking just above Hamilton.

“What… is that?”

His voice was low, quiet… thinly controlled. Hamilton couldn’t look away from him.

“Ignore it.” He whined, leaning up and licking a stripe up Jefferson’s neck. For a moment, Thomas’s shield, the one he had been using to uphold his rather impressive control, had been shattered. He listened to Hamilton, bowing back down to kiss the man underneath him.

That moment didn’t last long at all.

“I can’t.” He tore away, looking back up.

“My god.” Hamilton muttered and sat up, turning to look at what had disrupted this. It was a fucking toy. That he had when he was a child and that he was planning to give to Philip. He sighed. “Are you kidding me, Thomas?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a bear.”

“That is not a bear.”

“I’ve had it since I was a child.” Alexander defended.

“And you still sleep with it?” Jefferson chuckled as Alexander picked up the teddy. “How cute.” He said, slightly sarcastic and genuine at the same time.

“I am going to give it away.”

“However, we are not having sex while that is staring at me.” Thomas stated bluntly, as Alexander was placing the bear on the floor by the side of the bed. As the bear was out of side a hand gentle nudged him back into a laying position. Jefferson was kneeling between his legs, his hands stroking up and down the smaller man’s inner thighs. It was like he was drinking in the sight of the other man. However, now Alexander knew the answer to his question of how far they would be going tonight. Honestly, he was too tipsy to reject the idea of it.

Alexander was laid out, undone, cock hard and laying against his stomach, legs relaxed and splayed enough for Jefferson to perch where he was, arms relaxed by his side. It was quite an intoxicating sight for Thomas to bear witness to.

The next few minutes was filled with grinding and kissing while Hamilton manoeuvres Jefferson’s shirt off and loosening the button on his pants. Despite Hamilton’s exposure, it doesn’t seem Jefferson has looked below the smaller man’s waistline at all during this, however his hand was dangerously close to touching below there. Or maybe Hamilton just hadn’t seen the other man look at him? Nevertheless, it wasn’t as if Hamilton had an ugly dick- he thought it wasn’t half bad, yet this could lead to some self-consciousness. He had also noticed some slowing down on Jefferson’s side.

“What’s the matter, can’t keep up?”

“Do you have any oils?”

At first Alexander, did not realise what the question was for. He just pushed his head back so he could look at Jefferson, however the moment eye-contact was established was when Hamilton realised what the question was for.

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, we’ll have to go for something more organic than oils.” He smirked again.

“Oils are orga-“ Alex was cut off when his legs where lifted in the air and spread apart, hands underneath his knees. His eyes blew wide open as he stared at Jefferson in shock and gasped as the older male blew lightly against the puckered hole. “What are you- “he was cut off by himself yelping as Thomas licked from his hole, over the taint to his balls. He was still smirking. Hamilton was also surprised by the yelp he made- it was a sound he had most definitely not made before.

His arm thrashed downwards, gripping onto Thomas’ hair for leverage as his legs were folded against his chest- leaving the younger man more vulnerable to further attacks. It was a strange feeling since he hadn’t paid that area any attention for so long, ever since – no. Now was not the time to remember _him._

Thomas started sucking and licking the hole predominantly and Hamilton had turned into an absolute mess, babbling vulgarities and cries ranging from- “oh fuck” to “more” to just incoherent noises in nonsensical orders.

Alex was a whiner and Jefferson _loved_ it.

Jefferson began swirling his tongue in circles around the muscle, feeling it twitch under his tongue, listening to Hamilton’s endless stream of noises. He began to start prodding with his tongue afterwards, his eyes flicking up to see both Hamilton’s hard length and red face in the same glance. He wishes he could hire a painter to capture this moment, yet it was something he did not want anyone else to see.

He pulled his mouth away, watching the rapid rise and fall of Alexander’s chest, the way his hair is fanned out around his head, the parting of his lips, the curve of his spine against the bed. The image of a man, who Jefferson had already observed to be problematically loud-mouthed, submitting. As he looked at Hamilton’s eyes he pushed a digit into the other man, not moving his gaze down to where he had entered. Alexander hissed at the entrance, tensing as he heard the squelch from the saliva and tight walls. It was a distantly familiar sensation, one he had not known he had missed. It was like he had let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He groaned out, long and loud, pushing his head back and elongating his neck. He closed his eyes, letting his arms drop to his sides and hands ball up in the linen of the sheets. It was a blissful stinging sensation which made the skin on Alexander’s body both itch and tremble with neediness. Alexander thrashed his limbs in frustration at the lack of movement.

Jefferson leaned down, his movement pushing his finger inside of the writhing man further. His other hand slid underneath the shirt Hamilton was wearing, sliding the cotton garment up to reveal the younger man’s chest. Little time was wasted as Jefferson pushed his finger in deeper through a jolted movement as he hunched over to press his mouth to one of Alexander’s nipples. He sucked for what seemed like a second to Alexander before he started licking and biting.

Hamilton curved his spine, lifting to put pressure on the finger inside of him and to give Jefferson more access to his chest. The sensations were slowly becoming euphoric, the haziness in the back of Hamilton’s eyes fading to create the aesthetic of a vignette effect wherever he looked. For a while Jefferson only used one finger, swirling it around inside of the other man, gradually pulling it out agonisingly before prodding it back it like a piston. Alexander had now lost the ability to string together enough words to make a sentence that functions within any language.

When Jefferson added another finger inside the equation of Hamilton’s ass the smaller male squealed, clenching around the digits. Before Jefferson could add the finger however he had to retrieve the original digit and spit on them to ensure they would slide inside. The display made Hamilton shudder in exhilaration. Holy shit his mind was being corrupted and he was drunk off it.

“Thomas.” His words were broken yet Jefferson could make sense of this one. At the sound of his own name he spread his fingers apart, fingering the younger man- sending him off babbling again. He sat back and watched his fingers, subconsciously licking his lips.

Alexander couldn’t make sense of the room he was in anymore all his senses had been simultaneously blurred and heightened. He was biting his lip and gripping onto the sheets so tightly that his knuckles were whitening.

“You’re so wrecked, Alexander.” Thomas narrated but Alexander couldn’t make sense of his words. Usually when someone spoke to him he understood what was being spoken before he retaliated, unlike in this situation where the stimulus was causing his brain to short-circuit, only allowing him to moan and accept the onslaught of pleasure.

“Please.” His voice was soft. “Please.” He repeated, pressing his hips onto Jefferson’s hand to only have his body held still, to whine only for his voice to land on deaf ears. Something inside of him, something carnal and feral, was craving more.

Something in Jefferson clicked, it was obvious as he removed his fingers and leaned back- inhaling as if it was the last breath he’d ever take. He moved Hamilton’s legs down so his knees were raised but his feet were on the bed. Alex looked at Jefferson as if his world was ending- there was a sadness in his eyes, a dissatisfaction that will never be eradicated.

“There is no going back from here.” He muttered, which was inaudible to Hamilton. “Get comfortable.”

In response Hamilton lifted his legs, spreading them and holding his knees close to his shoulders, making an ‘m’ shape. His hole, twitching, red and glistening with saliva.  The older man stretched out his back before shuffling forwards, finally able to pay attention to his aching hardness. He aligned himself with the opening- placing a hand on Alexander’s thigh gently before pushing in.

The heat that enveloped him was a phenomena different from any he had ever experienced before, the pressure in Hamilton’s hips was something that hurt so good. Once Jefferson’s hips were flush against Hamilton’s ass the two men stilled. Alexander’s body was tensed, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth tightly closed as his shoulders were rolled forward and his toes were curled. Jefferson rolled his hips teasingly, earning a hum from the man below him.

It took around forty seconds for Hamilton to unclench his eyes and allow his body to relax through a series of trembles, it took around ten seconds for him to open his eyes.

However, as soon as his eyes were open Jefferson lost his patience, pulling out almost the entire way following up with relentlessly pushing back inside. Hamilton gasped and screamed out- it wasn’t pained but it wasn’t blissful. It was surprise and weakness. He was whining and moaning after that noise as Jefferson did not stop moving, his hips were either thrusting or grinding. Hamilton had become so weak without even touching his dick, without even doing anything to himself. This man did this to him- he was so close. Just at that moment, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He gritted his teeth and mewled.

“You’re taking me so well.”

Alexander whined from the praise, fluid dripping and pooling on his stomach- pre-cum seeping from his tip; chasing something that was walled off from him.

“Such a good _boy_.”

He was being wound-up so tightly that he predicted he could fly once this pressure was released. He was giddy and overloaded with pleasure it felt like it was too much- the overstimulation was making him see stars.

The noises of squelching, continuous moaning from Alexander, the comments and cavernous breaths Jefferson was making filled the room like perfume. Hamilton felt the heaviness of tears behind his eyes as his body was pushed into an oblivion of lust- something he had only encountered with- _oh god._

“There!” Hamilton managed to shout out as Jefferson thrust upwards harshly. From then on Hamilton’s prostate was abused and all he could do was writhe and whimper underneath the man controlling the euphoria he was suffocating in.

The hand that was at the base of Hamilton’s prick started moving up and down frantically, a thumb occasionally swiping over the slit at the top of the head. It took twenty seconds for Hamilton to climax, his vision blurring out as he was fucked through his orgasm shaking and screaming in ecstasy.

Jefferson kept going as Hamilton clenched around him, the now sensitive flesh trembling around his throbbing member. Alexander was weeping in overstimulation, discomfort and paradise, his cum smearing over his stomach as Jefferson leaned down to press his lips against the others messily- not moving to deepen the kiss. The pace was merciless for a minute until Thomas bit down harshly on Hamilton’s lower lip- tasting copper as he spilled inside of his future colleague.

Once the movement had stilled, and Jefferson had pulled out, the emptiness eased Hamilton into his sleep rapidly, the semen spilling of him and drying on his stomach. Jefferson picked up a shirt from the floor- not knowing or caring as to which of the two men it belonged to (turned out it was Hamilton’s shirt).

He brushed some of the hair out of Alexander’s sleeping face after cleaning the man up rather poorly.

“You’re a good little fuck, Hamilton.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the other man’s forehead before chuckling and re-dressing himself.

Jefferson left without leaving a note or any souvenir of their affair.

Not much time had passed since they arrived at Hamilton’s lodgings, and not much time will pass until Alexander will wake up aching and alone. Not long until the two men would arrive at work the next day and pretend nothing happened. Not long until they realised that they were not as compatible as they thought that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I don't know what to do with my life so... I'll be waiting until I can think of something else to write. :)


End file.
